Dermis

And it was anchovies I tasted

As you cock-swabbed the inside

Of my cheek

Calling it science

Epithelial indeed lies

Like icebergs or politicians picking

Arab friends

And there was a slight crust you left

Behind of crystalline semen

On my dress – unless –

I’m calling it armor

Just before that

C’mon press that spot, baby

And I place my thumb to your trachea

 And your eyelids flutter

  Almost epileptic

   As I surface to meet my own skin

    At last level ground

     And I fake it

      And I fuck

       And I fake it

And